


Family don't end with Feathers

by MythicHollow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Dean Winchester, Angel Sam Winchester, Archangels, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Nephilim, Will Tag as Necessary, by which I mean this isn't beta'd, eventually, i am my own beta, not for a bit though, we don't play favourites here everyone deserves love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicHollow/pseuds/MythicHollow
Summary: Ever since Lucifer escaped Hell, Dean's been feeling... funky. Sam's noticed it too. So has Cas.It's probably nothing though.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 26
Kudos: 131





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so first thing's first, I am an incredibly slow writer. So while I will try to update semi regularly, I probably won't commit to an upload schedule any time soon.
> 
> Second, the bare bones of this story are heavily inspired by Aytheria's wonderful, yet sadly incomplete work, Unbind. If you haven't read it, you definitely should.
> 
> Third, I have yet to finish the series, but this diverges at the beginning of Season five, so that shouldn't be too much of an issue. You should know, though, that I've pretty much ignored any canon lore relating to nephilim so uhh, if that bothers you maybe don't read?
> 
> Anyways this is just the prologue. Chapter one should be up soonish (this is my first multi chapter story, exciting!)

Faith is a funny thing. So is family.

Michael had once thought he’d known all there was to know about both, but now… Now he wasn’t so sure.

There was a time that Michael followed his Father’s orders without fail. He was the Prince of Angels, the good son. He was the perfect role model for all in heaven, loyal and obedient to the Almighty above all else. Even when Father asked him to cast his closest brother into the Pit, he did it without question.

But then Father disappeared (left them), then Gabriel (ran away). Then Raphael became distant, detached (broken), and Michael felt his faith slipping. Losing one brother he could handle (could he?), but not his whole family.

Now the apocalypse was nearing, and Michael wasn’t sure he could follow through. Casting Lucifer out was one thing, but killing his brother? The thought pushed Michael’s already waning faith over the edge.

So when Raphael told him it was time for the vessels to be conceived, Michael did something he had never done before in all his millenia of existence: He panicked.

He couldn’t go through with it, he couldn’t kill his brother, he couldn’t.

Then something occurred to him, if there were no vessels, there could be no apocalypse, right?

He couldn’t kill them. He may not be particularly fond of humans, but these humans were his and his brother’s vessels. In a way, they were a part of them. He would have to find another way then.

He could always…

No. It was unthinkable.

But what choice did he have?

And that was how Michael found himself, speaking to one John Winchester on the night his vessel was to be conceived, and again four years later for Lucifer’s.

John Winchester would not remember either of these encounters, but he wouldn’t need to. Michael only hoped it would be enough.


	2. It Begins

Dean was still trying to process everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. 

Lucifer, the Devil, was free. Escaped from Hell and walking the earth, ready to bring about the End of Days with a capital E.

Standing in that church, clinging to his brother, Dean had been so sure he was finally about to meet the bloody end he’d always known was coming for him. He figured it was fitting that it’d be at the hand of the biggest bad there was.

There was so much light and noise. It was like the first time Cas had tried to speak to him, but at the same time so much worse.

The light was getting brighter. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, set his jaw, braced himself. Held onto Sam. It was too loud.

(And yet somewhere in the cacophonous, ear-bleeding whine, Dean could almost have sworn he heard a voice, celebrating (freedom))

And then:

“What the devil is your name?”

What?

There were sounds. The ambient background of a public space, a quiet speaker playing Looney Toons reruns.

But that couldn’t be right, because they were definitely just huddled at the edge of a Hellmouth about to be deep-fried by the granddaddy of all evil.

Dean opened his eyes,

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know” came Sam’s voice from his left.

Now they were on a plane. A plane that was currently flying over Ilchester, if the man on the intercom was to be believed. Ilchester, where the Hellmouth was.

Just as Dean was about to say something, anything to Sam, because they definitely had stuff to talk about, the captain shouted over the intercom and the plane veered sharply.

Dean watched a pillar of light erupt from the little church beneath them as he scrambled to secure his oxygen mask.

God, he hated planes.

\---------------------------------------------

The race to escape the frenzied airport and find their way to the Impala had tied Dean’s tongue for a little while, but now they were in the car, headed as fast as they could away from the church. 

Yet even though the car was quiet and they had all the time in the world to talk, Dean couldn’t seem to think of anything to say.

He was on edge, practically vibrating, like there were ants under his skin. Sam, on the other hand, apparently had no such problem.

“Dean. Look, I-”

“Don't,” Dean said, he was going to continue, but Sam… Sam had flinched when Dean interrupted, and that just wasn’t right. Even at his most royally pissed, Dean would never do anything to actually hurt him. Sam knew that, right?

“Sam, listen. What happened tonight was bad, but we’ll deal with it. We’re alive, and right now that’s what I'm gonna focus on. We’ll worry about the rest once we have a chance to regroup and a plan.”

“What now then?” asked Sam.

Dean was silent for a moment.

“Well first things first I guess, how’d we end up on Soul Plane?” he finally said.

“I don’t know, Angels, maybe? It’d make sense, you know, beaming us out of harm’s way?” Sam suggested

“I guess,” Dean answered, “but whatever, that’s the least of our worries right now. If we want answers, we need to find Cas.”

“Yeah” Sam replied, almost hesitantly.

Dean side-eyed his brother. Again Sam’s body language was all off. He was stiff, defensive, and almost resigned. It was sending up so many red flags that Dean had lost count.

This was Sam when he was afraid of something, but there was no one and nothing in the Impala but the two of them. Something was very, very wrong.

“Sam,” there was the flinch again, “Sammy, c’mon, talk to me.”

“Dean, don’t.”

“I’m serious Sam you’re not right.”

“Dammit Dean what do you want me to say? I’m sorry I let the Devil out of Hell? I’m sorry I chose a demon over you? What, do you want me to beg for mercy?!”

“Mercy? Sam what the hell are you talking about?”

“You made it perfectly clear that I’m beyond saving. I don’t see why else we’d still be talking otherwise.”

“Sam I don't know what you're talking about, but if we need to… work something out, you’ve gotta be straight with me.” he shuddered at the implication, but something was seven different kinds of not right, and Dean was willing to table his ‘no chick flick moments’ rule just this once.

“So you’re not-” Sam cut himself off.

“Not what, Sam?”

Sam turned to his window and seemed to steel himself before trying again.

“You’re not going to… to ‘put me down’?”

Dean was pretty sure he got whiplash from how quickly he turned to look at Sam. He had to fight to regain control of the Impala before swerving to a stop at the side of the, thankfully deserted, road.

“I’m not going to what?!” Dean all but shouted. The buzzing energy was back.

“It’s just that in your voicemail-”

“Voicemail, Sam I only remember leaving one voicemail and it was about as far from a death threat as you can get!” but then again Zachariah had said Sam needed a push…

Oh that bastard was dead. Angel blade to the smarmy-ass face dead.

“Listen Sammy, I’m pissed, alright? Believe it or not it hurts to watch your brother choose a demon over you.”

“Dean-”

“No Sam let me finish. I’m pissed, and it hurt, but nothing could ever make me want to kill you. Never.” and dammit Dean wanted to kick himself when he saw Sam’s shock at that. Zachariah might’ve sent the dirty voicemail, but it was on Dean for making Sam believe it could ever be true.

“‘Sides,” he admitted, because he had to say something else, “I’d be lying if I said that demon bitch didn’t have me fooled for a while there too. And that was without the excuse of demon juice screwing with my judgement.”

Sam just looked at him. His expression was mostly unreadable, but there was a hint of something sappy and maybe a little sad that made Dean want to vomit.

After a minute Sam let out a sigh and looked back out the window,

“Guess we should head to Chuck’s then.”

Dean huffed and pulled back onto the road. He should probably be tired, but somehow he was still anxious and jumpy, still buzzing with that weird restless energy.

This was going to be a long drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've written these characters, so please be patient with me. I'm still trying to get their voices down. This chapter is just some basic plot setup. I tried to avoid directly transcribing the episode dialogue, but otherwise it's too much of a divergence from the show just yet. We'll get there.
> 
> Anyway, enough rambling, second chapter should be up soon :) I'm trying a new adhd medication so my writing has been a little faster. Till next time!


	3. Too Many Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is super dialogue heavy, so sorry for that. I promise things will pick up once we get past this first episode and into the season proper. if I'm being totally honest with myself, this probably should have been part of the first chapter, but I was impatient so I split it in two. But hey, shorter chapters means more frequent updates so it's a win-win right?

When they pulled in front of Chuck’s house the sun was just beginning to make its way across the sky.

Dean was already on edge as they approached the front door of the house. He could see the broken blinds through the front window. Dean swore he could feel the tension in the air skittering across his skin like static electricity. He scratched at his collar.

Sam tried the doorknob, and raised his eyebrows when it opened for him. He pushed open the door and entered the house, Dean followed cautiously behind him, still scratching around his neck. Dammit, he hadn’t had the heebie jeebies like this since before Sammy could walk.

Inside the house was a mess, furniture broken and strewn about. There was blood all over the darkened hallways and Dean found himself shuddering every time they rounded a corner. 

Something occurred to him, and he gave Sam a look that said “Give me a minute, I need to do something,” before pulling out his pocket knife and slicing his hand to draw an angel banishing sigil on a sliding door. Dean slid the door and the sigil out of sight and nodded at Sam. Sam raised his eyebrows but turned to continue their search without any words.

Dean was just about to suggest that maybe Chuck hadn’t made it even with an archangelic bodyguard, when something came flying at them from the right. Sam grunted and stumbled backwards.

“Jeez! Ow!”

“Sam!” Chuck had a plunger poised for attack, “You’re ok!”

“Well, my head hurts” Sam grumbled

“No, I mean my last vision! You went, like, full on Vader. Your body temperature was 150, your heart rate was 200. Your eyes were black!”

Dean frowned when Sam looked away, but decided not to push it right then. “Where’s Cas?” he asked instead.

Chuck suddenly looked sad, “He’s dead. Or… gone. The archangel smote the crap out of him.”

Dean felt denial rise in his gut. There was no way Cas was dead, “You’re sure? I mean maybe he just vanished into the light or something” he asked. Chuck must not have seen right.

“Oh no. He, like, exploded” Chuck interrupted, “Like a water balloon of chunky soup!”

Dean’s heart sank. That buzzing energy was back with a vengeance and this time it was more like a roar. Chuck was eyeing him oddly, he almost looked like he was about to say something, but then his attention turned to the ceiling and he looked afraid. Dean was about to ask what was wrong when he felt something in the air change and the itchy feeling ramped up a few notches.

“Oh no,” Chuck said.

“Oh no? What’s oh no?” Sam asked

“I can feel them.” Chuck’s voice was shaking

And then a voice that made Dean’s blood boil and the buzzing snap angrily inside him came from behind them.

“Thought we’d find you here,” said Zachariah. Dean turned to find him standing in front of the window flanked by two angelic lackeys.

Zachariah kicked at the fallen furniture, “Playtime’s over Dean,” he smirked, “Time to come with us.”

“You son of a bitch!” Dean growled

“You’re upset.” the bastard had the audacity to look surprised.

“Yeah I’m upset. I’m upset you screwed with my message to Sam so you could jumpstart judgement day.”

“Oh we let it happen, sure. Maybe even offered a little incentive, but we didn’t force Sam to do anything. That was all him. Right Sammy?” Zachariah looked at Sam and oh, Dean was going to skewer him.

“But let’s not quibble over who started what,” Zachariah continued, “Say it was all our faults and move on. Because like it or not, it’s Apocalypse now and we’re on the same team again.”

“Oh is that so?” Dean asked, he was losing his patience for this conversation.

“You wanna kill the Devil, we want you to kill the Devil. It’s synergy.” Zachariah looked far too self satisfied.

“Yeah, sounds great! Except that I wouldn’t trust you if you were the last douche on earth, douche.” Dean yanked the sliding door out behind him and Zachariah and his flunkies barely had time to react as he slammed his hand against the banishing sigil.

Light erupted throughout the room, drowning everything else out. Dean, however, hardly noticed as he was too busy having the wind knocked out of him. When the light faded the angels were gone and Dean was kneeling on the floor with a hand on his chest, gasping like he’d been punched in the gut. Sam was at his side in seconds, fussing like a girl.

“Dean! Are you ok?”

“I’m, ugh, I’m fine,” Dean replied, pausing to haul himself to his feet, “Just got the wind knocked out of me. Must’ve done the spell wrong or something.” Yeah, that would make sense. Sam didn’t look convinced, but let it go without a fight. Chuck was looking at him oddly again and Dean felt like he was about to vibrate out of his damn skin.

“Alright well we can’t stay here and wait for those dick monkeys to come back for us.” Dean said into the awkward silence. He turned to Chuck, “You keep us posted, let us know if anything changes.” Chuck just nodded. Dean decided that was good enough and moved to leave.

“Stay safe” he heard Sam say to Chuck before following Dean out to the car.

\---------------------------------------------  
They found a motel a few hours from Chuck’s place. Dean was unpacking in their room when Sam came in and tossed something at him.

“Hex bags,” Sam said, “No way the angels will find us with those. Demons either.”

“Where’d you get ‘em?” Dean asked

“I made them,” Sam replied hesitantly

Dean raised an eyebrow, “And you learned that from…”

“From Ruby” Sam said quietly

Dean didn’t say anything. This was useful, and as pissed as he still was, he was trying not to make Sam feel bad about making a mistake. God knew they’d both made their fair share.

“By the way,” Sam’s voice pulled Dean out of his thoughts, “how are you doing? Are you feeling ok?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Dean replied

Sam gave him a look that said he knew what Dean was doing, and he wasn’t going to be deterred.

“That banishing sigil looked like it did a number on you.”

“I told you man, I’m fine. Just a jacked up spell that’s all. I’ve only seen it like twice before. Let’s just be glad it wasn’t anything worse.” Sam seemed to drop it for now. Dean hoped he’d forget about it, but knowing his brother it was a long shot. “Well anyway, it looks like we’ve got the mother of all hunts on our hands. What do you say we get to tracking down the Devil” because that wasn’t an insane thing to say.

Sam huffed a laugh, “Yeah I’ll get right on that.”

That night Dean lay on the dingy motel bed and tried not to think about everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. He had told Sam that what happened with the banishing sigil was just bad spellwork. Dean wished he believed that himself, but he knew he’d done the sigil right. Not to mention the buzzing energy that had started in the church where all Hell broke loose and hadn’t gone away since. It was currently buzzing a low steady thrum under Dean’s skin that might have lulled him to sleep if his mind wasn’t still twisting itself in knots. He might’ve asked Cas about it but Chuck had said…

Dean rolled onto his side and huffed angrily. He refused to think about that right now. Right now he had to focus on the literal Devil that was free to walk the earth and, more immediately, his need to sleep, something he hadn’t had the chance to do in 48 hours at least. He forced himself to close his eyes. Eventually, he felt himself beginning to drift off, and he fell asleep listening to the steady rhythm of Sam’s breathing.


	4. Here There be Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I told you I was a slow writer. In my defence this chapter is about twice as long as the previous two, plus there's an illustration.
> 
> This one is veeery dialogue heavy, but it takes us nearly to the end of Sympathy for the Devil (finally).
> 
> Also, just for peace of mind, I do have a plan for this story.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and kind comments! They really make my day :D

_ It was dark. _

_ All around him as far as he could see, blackness. He was floating in a featureless void. _

_ After what might have been minutes, but felt like years, he noticed a white glow beginning behind him. He whipped around to find something that looked like one of those nebulas that Sammy was so obsessed with in 6th grade. It was all white, and as he studied it, it seemed to reach out towards him. Tendrils creeping closer from across the blackness. _

_ _

_ As the light continued to approach, he heard whispers picking up all around him. Thousands of voices speaking words he couldn’t understand. They got louder as the light got closer.  _

_ The noise reached near unbearable levels as he finally made contact with the light. The tendrils made their way up his arm. It was warm and tingly, and if it weren’t for the noise he might even enjoy it. _

_ The voices got louder still, and the light got brighter. _

_ Soon he could hear nothing but whining and see nothing but white. _

_ He wasn’t sure how much more he could take, it felt like his head was going to explode- _

Dean sat bolt upright. That was…

What the hell  _ was _ that?

He let out a slow breath and turned to look at Sam in the bed across from him. He was still asleep, not surprising given the last few days, and then out the window. The sun was just beginning to light up the motel parking lot.

Dean sighed, there was no way he was getting back to sleep, and threw the blanket off of his legs. He made his way to the bathroom for a shower.

By the time he made his way back into the room, Sam was sitting up in bed and dragging a tired hand down his face.

“Morning sunshine,” Dean said gruffly. Sam blinked a couple of times, acknowledging Dean with a grunt.

Dean chewed his lip for a moment before speaking again.

“Did you sleep ok? No, uh… no weird dreams or anything?”

Sam furrowed his brow,

“Don’t think so,” he answered, “why, did you?”

“Nah,” Dean lied, “just thought with everything that happened maybe you’d slept badly. How are you doing, by the way?”

Sam blinked, “I’m… actually… ok? I guess whatever zapped us onto that airplane must’ve cleaned me up or something.”

“Good. That’s good.” Dean said.

There was an awkward silence.

“Right, I’m gonna go get us some breakfast you… do whatever.” Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to respond before he was out the door.

\---------------------------------------------

Several hours later, they were sitting in their room in relative silence. The only noise was coming from the news channel Dean was only sort of paying attention to. Sam was at the small motel room table pretending to search their dad’s journal for possible advice. Really, they were both just taking a minute to collect themselves.

Dean was once again scratching at his collar due to yet another round of aggravating buzzing. He looked up when there was a knock at the door.

Dean turned off the TV and exchanged a look with Sam. Sam moved to answer the door with his gun tucked behind his back. Dean tensed in his spot on the bed.

Sam peered out the peephole and carefully opened the door. On the other side was… not what Dean was expecting.

There was a short blonde woman standing very close to the door. She had big eyes that were glued to Sam like he’d saved her life just by being there.

The woman gasped in a way that made her sound more than a little distressed.

“Are you ok lady?” Sam asked.

“Sam! Is it really you?” she breathed. Sam tried to back away but she pressed a hand to his chest before he could get away, “And you’re so firm!”

At this point, Dean was desperately trying to hold back his snickers. Sam asked, “Do I know you?”

“No!” the woman said, “But I know you! You’re Sam Winchester! And you’re-” she turned to look at Dean, “...not what I pictured.” Dean and Sam shared an uneasy look. 

“I’m Becky,” she continued, “I’ve read all about you guys! I've even written a few…” she trailed off, and Dean decided that was enough.

“How the hell did you find us?” he asked

“Mr. Edlund sent me!” Becky said, “He couldn’t come himself because he’s being watched,” she leaned in like she had a secret to tell them, “ _ angels! _ ” she whispered.

Dean was suddenly very interested, “Chuck? Chuck has a message for us?”

“Yes!” Becky squealed, then she turned to look at Sam. Her gaze was probably supposed to be soulful, but was mostly just creepy, “I memorized every word.  _ For you. _ ”

Dean was officially creeped the hell out, but this chick had information for them. Information that they desperately needed, so someone had to get this conversation moving. Sam beat him to it.

“Becky, what did he say?”

Becky snapped to attention, “He said, ‘The Michael Sword is on earth. The angels lost it.’”

“The Michael Sword?” that definitely sounded like something that could kill Lucifer, “Does he know where it is?” Dean asked.

“In a castle,” she replied, “on a hill made of 42 dogs.”

“That… doesn’t make any sense.” Dean said, “42 dogs?” the buzzing was back.

“I know! But that’s what he said, it’s a mystery!” Becky sounded far too excited about that. Dean sighed.

They needed to call Bobby.

\---------------------------------------------

They finally managed to shoo Becky out of the motel room, and Dean phoned Bobby. Now they were waiting for him to arrive.

Dean was fidgeting with the remote when a knock announced Bobby’s arrival. He got up to open the door, and immediately regretted it.

As soon as Dean reached the door, he stumbled. What had so far been a more or less subdued buzzing became an all-encompassing roar. He didn’t know how or why, but he knew that whatever was on the other side of that door was bad.

It was only when Sam spoke that Dean realised he had frozen in front of the closed door. “Dean? What is it?”

Dean… couldn’t answer. The roaring was paralyzing. A thrumming beat that chanted  _ ‘wrong, wrong, twisted, evil’ _

“Dean!” he heard Sam shout, he sounded so far away.

It was only when a hand wrapped around his shoulder that Dean felt like he could breathe again. The roaring chant didn’t go away, but it was more manageable. He realized Sam was still calling his name and he looked up at his brother.

“Something’s not right, Sammy.”

“Yeah, no kidding!” Sam looked like he wanted to shake him.

“No, I mean with whoever’s on the other side of the door.” Dean was beginning to feel frantic.

Sam glanced at the door, “Is it not Bobby?” he asked?

As if to answer his question, a voice shouted from the hallway, “Are you boys gonna let me in sometime today?”

It certainly sounded like Bobby and yet, somehow Dean knew it couldn’t be him.

Sam, however, didn’t seem to feel the same. Before Dean could stop him, Sam had pulled open the door. The Bobby-impersonator entered the room, gripping Sam in a tight hug that made Dean feel sick. 

“It’s good to see you, boy,” it said. Then it faced Dean, and the angry roaring picked up again. “Dean-” it started but Dean was already backing away.

“Sam get the hell away from it!” he barked.

Sam jumped away from the  _ thing _ on instinct but gave Dean a questioning look.

“Something wrong Dean?” fake-Bobby asked, narrowing its eyes at him.

“You tell me you son of a bitch! What’d you do with Bobby?” Dean growled.

“Dean what-” Sam started, but he was cut off when the thing wearing Bobby’s face grabbed him. It twisted his arm behind his back and its eyes flashed black.

“Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way. Shame, I was lookin’ forward to breaking poor Sammy’s spirit a little bit first.” it was a demon. That explained the  _ evil _ that Dean could practically smell rolling off of it in waves.

It did not, however, explain  _ why _ he could practically smell the evil rolling off of it in waves, but Dean had more important things to worry about right now. Namely the demon that currently had his little brother in an arm lock.

The Demon grinned cruelly at Dean, “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna tell me everything you know about the Michael Sword. You’re gonna help me track it down. And then maybe if you cooperate, I’ll think about letting Sammy go.”

Dean continued to back up until his leg bumped against something. He reached behind his back. His hand closed around the demon-killing knife that was sitting on the nightstand. He brandished it in front of him.

“Bite me, asshole.” he ground out.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t wanna hurt your surrogate daddy, do you Dean?” called an unfamiliar feminine voice through the open doorway. The roaring screamed at him as a dark-haired woman sauntered into the room flanked by two men. “Hey there Sam, long time no see,” she said to Sam where he was still trapped in the hold of the demon possessing Bobby.

Dean furrowed his brows at her. She was a demon, obviously, if the barrage of  _ evil _ that was assaulting his senses was anything to go by. And apparently, she knew them. Knew Sam. Dean squinted and tried to place her.

“Ruby?” he asked.

“Try again,” she grinned, “go back further.”

Dean wracked his brain,  _ “Meg?!” _ he said after a moment.

“Bingo!” Meg said, “Hey Dean.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam grunted as he struggled against the demon’s hold.

“These are the days of miracle and wonder Sam! Our father’s among us.” Meg had been staring dreamily into the distance. She focused sharply on Dean before continuing, “We can’t have you two dummies screwing that up for us. That’s why you’re gonna help us track down the Michael Sword first.”

“In your dreams bitch,” Dean charged Meg with the demon-killing knife. He didn't get very far before being slammed against the wall by a nauseating wave of demonic force. The knife clattered to the floor.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Meg tutted as she bent down to pick it up, “you kiss your daddy with that mouth? Oh wait,” she grinned, “I guess not.”

Dean grit his teeth. God, he wanted to stab her right in her smug frigging face for the comment about his dad alone.

Wait a minute.

_ ‘In a castle, on a hill made of 42 Dogs’ _

Dad.

He needed to be sure, but first, they had a demon problem to deal with. Dean searched the room for a possible way out with his eyes. Meg was still monologuing, but her voice was distant. The roaring already seemed to be fighting against the restraints of the demon power. When Meg handed the demon knife to demon-Bobby, though, Dean felt it explode.

Suddenly he was on his knees, and the roar became a light. The next few minutes were a bright white blur for Dean. The next thing he knew he was standing over Sam while four pillars of smoke fled the building.

Sam was watching him with wide eyes, but Dean’s attention had already turned to Bobby’s unconscious form. He retrieved the knife and checked Bobby’s pulse.

“Is he…” Sam started.

“He’s alive,” Dean announced, eyeing the blood on the wall behind Bobby, “but he hit his head.”

Sam moved forward at that, all shock replaced with acute worry. He tried to get a look at the injury without moving Bobby.

“I don’t like the angle of his neck, we should probably call a hospital.”

Dean sighed, looking at the room’s other unconscious occupants “Right, well we can’t bring ‘em here. Help me carry him.”

\---------------------------------------------

They got Bobby to the hospital with minimal hassle. Sam spent the whole ride there shooting Dean weird looks that Dean pretended not to notice. He planned on putting off the inevitable discussion as long as possible.

They waited at the hospital long enough to learn that Bobby had a concussion and a fracture in his neck. Luckily, he was expected to make a full recovery in time. Sam wanted to wait until he woke up, but Dean shuffled him out as soon as he was sure that Bobby would be ok for the time being.

Dean was digging through his duffle when Sam’s staring became too much for him.

“What?” he snapped.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened back there?” Sam asked.

“Nope,” was all Dean said.

“Really?” Sam continued, “Because I’ve got questions that I need answers to if I’m gonna get back in that car with you.”

“What do you want me to say, Sam? I barely remember it! One minute I was pinned to a wall and the next the demons were smoking out the window and Bobby was passed out on the floor.” He didn’t mention the roaring. Or the buzzing that had returned once the demons had gone. Dean bet Cas would know what was happening to him…

“Aha!” Dean shouted before Sam could interrogate him any further. He was holding a small plastic bag triumphantly in the air.

“Why were you looking for that?” Sam asked. It was a bag full of random maps and paper scraps of information that were too valuable to throw away.

Dean dug around in the bag until he found the small business card he had been looking for.

“Dad had a storage locker in upstate New York where he kept all his dangerous junk. But look here” he held the card out for Sam to read.

“Castle Storage, 42 Rover Hill,” Sam read aloud.

“A castle on a hill made of 42 dogs!” Dean was grinning now.

“You’re saying  _ dad _ had the Michael Sword this whole time?” Sam was incredulous. Dean just headed for the Impala’s driver side door.

“You comin’ or not Sammy?” he asked. Sam hesitated but ultimately climbed in beside Dean.

They could worry about weird buzzing and flaky demons later. Right now, they had work to do.

  
  



	5. Damn Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahah, I won't lie, part of the reason this took so long is because I was playing the sims... but hey, at least we're finally finished with Sympathy for the Devil! It only took like four chapters. I can't tell you how many times I've watched that episode by now.
> 
> I'm not totally satisfied with the flow of this chapter, but I'm tired of fighting with it for now. I may at some point decide to come back and fix it up a bit but we'll see.

It rained the whole drive to the locker. Dean was on edge, the buzz, as he’d started calling it in his head, was driving him mad. Their encounter with Meg had somehow made Dean even more hyper-aware of its presence. Any time he was able to draw his thoughts away from the borderline panic at the edge of his mind, the buzz was there. It felt like it was searching for something, not that Dean knew what that something was. He didn't even know why he was so certain that the buzz was searching in the first place.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself as they pulled up beside the storage locker. He continued to think very deliberately about his current mission while he and Sam suited up.

They hadn’t told the demons where the sword was, but that didn’t mean they weren’t followed. Better safe than sorry was what kept hunters alive.

Dean made the executive decision that he would be the one to open the door. Sam would stay back, out of sight of anything that was waiting for them inside. Tactically, it made sense to have someone ready to take a possible assailant by surprise. Dean would be lying, though, if he tried to say it wasn’t also an excuse to keep Sammy out of the line of fire as long as possible. Sam gave him a look that said he knew what Dean was doing but conceded nonetheless.

Dean unlocked the door as quietly as possible and pushed the door aside. He peered inside, gun at the ready, and moved cautiously into the locker. There was a devil’s trap on the floor (predictable), but no sign of any actual demons so far. The buzz, too, was relatively quiet. Dean wasn’t quite ready to trust it with his life yet, though, never mind trusting it with Sam’s.

He heard Sam move into the room behind him. Dean was about to declare the room clear when he was interrupted by an infuriatingly familiar voice.

“Nice work handling those demons back there. Didn’t even tell them where the sword is,” Zachariah emerged from the darkness once again flanked by his two angelic flunkies. The buzz gave a little jump. Did Zachariah know?

“Of course you douchebags are here,” Dean snapped. He was still mostly in denial about what happened with the demons, but the angels knowing about it would almost definitely spell bad news for him.

“And to think,” Zachariah continued, unaware of Dean’s growing panic, “it was right in front of them the whole time. They could have grabbed it whenever they wanted!”

“What does that mean?” Sam looked about as pissed as Dean felt.

“We didn’t lie, you know. We did lose the Michael sword. We really couldn’t find it, until you two hand-delivered it to us, that is.”

Shit. Dean had a feeling he knew where Zachariah was going with this and it was Not Good with a capital ‘N’.

“We don’t have anything,” Dean said. He desperately hoped he was wrong about this.

Zachariah rolled his eyes, “It’s you, chucklehead. You’re the Michael Sword.”

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“What, you thought you could kill Lucifer yourselves? That’s Michael’s job, but he can’t do it without his vessel. That’s where you come in.”

Despite himself, Dean felt a flicker of hope. Maybe Zachariah didn’t know after all. Being a vessel was bad news, plain and simple. Somehow,though, something deep inside Dean told him that Zachariah knowing about the buzz would be infinitely worse.

“I’m his vessel?” He couldn’t celebrate yet, it still wasn’t clear exactly how much Zachariah did know.

“You catch on quick, maybe you aren’t quite as hopelessly dull as I thought.” Zachariah looked way too smug for Dean’s liking.

“Wait, if Dean is Michael’s vessel,” Sam cut in, “then what are you still doing here? Why not just grab him and disappear?”  
It took a moment for Dean to catch what Sam was alluding to, but then it dawned on him.

“You can’t just take me. You need my consent!”

“Unfortunately,” Zachariah’s expression was sour. Dean was getting a little tired of being looked at like the scum on his shoe.

“Well then I hate to say it, but the answer is no.” Dean was pretty sure by now that he was in the clear as far as odd buzzes went, but that didn’t mean the danger had passed.

“See that just won’t cut it this time. The war’s already started, whether you like it or not. We need our general and our general, however unfortunately, needs you. Which is why I am completely and utterly through screwing around.” Zachariah pointed a finger gun at Dean before slowly sliding over to Sam.

“Bang,” was all he said, and Sam fell to the ground with a cry of pain.

Dean felt the buzz rattle furiously inside him but he fought to keep it under control. He was pretty sure by now that Zachariah didn’t know about it and he intended to keep it that way.

“You son of a bitch,” he bit out, “the answer’s still no.”

“Well how about this then. You say yes, and we’ll heal you from, oh how about, stage four stomach cancer?”

Dean's response died in his throat at the next voice that spoke up.

“That won't be necessary.”

“Cas!”

Cas was alive. It made no goddamn sense, but gift horse; mouth.

Zachariah’s flunkies were on him in seconds.  
“Cas, look out!” Dean shouted, but Cas had already pulled out his blade and caught the first flunky in the throat. The room was briefly drowned in burning white light. The second angel didn’t go down so easily, but Cas was relentless, and eventually, Zachariah was the only one left.

“How are you-”

“Alive?” Castiel interrupted, “It’s a good question. How did these two end up on that airplane?” he gestured to Sam and Dean, “Another good question because the angels didn’t do it.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, if not the angels then who…

“I think we both know the answer,” Castiel continued. His gaze was still fixed on Zachariah, who looked furious.

“No,” Zachariah started, “that’s impossible-”

“It scares you,” Cas interrupted for the second time, “Well it should. Now put Sam back together and go.”

Zachariah looked pissed, but he wisely followed Castiel’s orders. Finally, Cas turned to look at them, “You two need to be more careful,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that. Apocalypse and all.” Dean responded, Sam, groaned to his feet behind him.

Cas shook his head, “It’s not just that. Lucifer is already circling his vessel, and once he takes it those hex bags won’t be enough-”

“Woah woah woah hold on, back up, Lucifer needs a vessel?” Dean asked.

“Yes, despite his fall he is still, in essence, an archangel. He needs a vessel to walk the earth just as Michael does,” Cas answered. And damn, being Michael’s vessel wasn’t ideal but Dean couldn’t imagine being the poor bastard destined to house the literal devil. Dean was pulled out of his by the sound of Cas’s voice.

“None of that is important right now. What’s important is that once Lucifer claims his vessel, your hex bags will be of no use in hiding you from him,”

Almost before he had even finished speaking, Cas was pressing a hand to each of their chests. White-hot pain exploded from inside Dean’s sternum.

The last thing Dean saw before he passed out was Cas’s shocked face.

\---------------------------------------------  
 _He was floating again. The light was closer now, practically on top of him. The glowing tendrils were mingling with his limbs almost like they were a part of him. The voices were quieter this time, a soft murmur in the emptiness around him. They made him feel less alone in the vastness of the void._

_He was drifting aimlessly, listening to quiet chatter, when a single voice rose above the others._

_**-ean? Dean!** _

_A new light flickered to life in the distance, it felt both foreign and familiar at the same time._

_**Dean** _

_Came the voice once again, and he realized it was coming from the direction of the new light. The voice was fitting, he decided._

_**Dean, can you hear me? D-** _

“-ean!

Dean jerked upright, narrowly avoiding headbutting Cas in the nose.

“Whas’goinon?!” he slurred. He swung his head around blearily and noted they were still in the lockup. A hand landed on his shoulder and Sam’s face slid into view.

“Geez, Dean. Cas tried to use his mojo on us and you passed out!” he said.

“What? How long was I out?” Dean tried to listen to the answer but the buzz wouldn’t let him focus. It was like someone had turned it up to eleven.

“-ean? Are you listening?” oh. That was Cas.

“Yeah….. Sorry, say that again?” Dean shoved the buzz as deep down inside of him as it would go.

“You were only out for a few moments, but my grace should not have caused such a strong reaction from you at all.” Cas’s eyes were narrowed. Sam looked worried, but Cas looked suspicious.

Well, Dean had to ask someone. Cas wasn’t the worst option.

“Uhh, about that, could being near Lucifer’s grace have… done something?” he asked.

“Done something?” Cas repeated.

“Like could it have… messed something up. Inside me, I mean.” Dean continued.

Cas furrowed his brow, “That depends on what you mean by inside.” he said.

“I mean like…” dammit this wasn’t working, new approach then, “Ok, so ever since Lucifer escaped there’s been this- this buzzing. In my head. And it never stops, and when there are demons around it really freaks out, and I’ve been having weird dreams, and weird things have been happening, and I just want to know what the hell is going on!” Dean winced when he finished. Maybe he wasn’t as calm about this as he thought.

“I knew there was something you weren’t telling me! What the hell Dean?” Sam was giving him those hurt puppy eyes that always made Dean feel like the worst brother in the entire world.

“We had bigger things to deal with!” he defended himself anyway.

Cas interrupted whatever Sam was going to say next, “I believe I may have an idea of what’s going on,” the shock was back, “But it shouldn’t be possible. I need to investigate further, but not here. We aren’t safe here.”

“Bobby’s then,” Dean decided.

“Yes, that would be wise,” Cas agreed, he started to reach for their foreheads but Dean dodged his hand.

“Woah, no way. We’re driving, Cas,” he said.

“But-” Cas began

“Nope, I’ve had enough angel weirdness today, and uhh,” he glanced guiltily at Sam, “Sam and I have some stuff to talk about.”

“You think?” Sam looked unimpressed.

Cas was clearly against them driving, but he relented nonetheless, “Fine,” he said, “I will meet you there. If you encounter any trouble-”

“We’ll call you. Promise,” that seemed to satisfy Cas for now, and he disappeared moments later.

Dean glanced at Sam, and yep, he was definitely still pissed, but he was right to be. Dean owed him an explanation.

“C’mon Sammy. If we’re talking about this, I need to eat first,” he said, heading out of the storage locker and towards the Impala.

“You’re not getting out of this,” Sam called after him.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Sam, now get in the damn car.”

Sam huffed but only closed the passenger side door a little harder than usual.

Dean pulled out of the parking lot and tried not to feel like he was driving to his execution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered ending the chapter when Dean passed out but I figured you guys had waited too long to deserve a cliffhanger like that. Thanks for your patience, I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner!
> 
> Thank you so, so much for all the comments and kudos! I appreciate every single one :D


	6. Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did NOT want to get written. I got writer's block like seven times my god. But it's here now :D
> 
> Once again very dialogue heavy, but I've never written anything this long before so I'm sort of learning as I go.

The atmosphere in the car was tense. Sam had yet to say anything, and Dean was planning to let him decide how and when to begin this particular conversation, so they rode in silence.

Dean’s eyes were glued to the road ahead of him, watching the street lights flicker past, and keeping his eye out for any quick, cheap food options.

Sam was radiating bad vibes from the passenger’s seat. Dean was pretty sure he could actually feel Sam’s pissed-offness on his skin like a physical itch beneath the surface. He was less than thrilled about that particular development.

The tension became too much for Dean and he gave in.

“You have to say something eventually, Sam.”

Sam said nothing. Dean focused his attention back on the road ahead. Several minutes passed before Sam finally broke his silence.

“So I guess keeping massive secrets from each other is fine as long as it’s you, right?” he said simply.

Dean winced, “C’mon Sam, you know that’s not it.”

“Do I? Because I’m pretty sure we just agreed to trust each other from now on.” Sam was pissed, that much was obvious, but Dean had a feeling it was more than that.

The tight lines of Sam’s face pointed to anger but they also pointed to hurt, and arguably even worse, resignation. Sam didn’t think he deserved Dean’s trust.

Dammit, Dean was getting pretty tired of feeling like the world’s worst big brother.

“I trust you!” he insisted, Sam looked unconvinced.

“Then why didn’t you tell me there was something wrong, Dean?”

“I- fuck, Sam, because I was scared! I was scared, and you’re right, I shoulda’ told you but I was busy pretending everything was fine,” Sam looked shocked at first, but deflated moments later.

“I just wish you’d said something to me. I want to help,” Dean hated hearing Sam’s voice so small.

“I’m… sorry,” Dean finally said. Sam still looked unsure so he continued, “No more secrets. For real this time. Promise.” he affirmed, looking at Sam expectantly.

“Promise,” Sam agreed.

They were silent for a few more moments as Dean pulled into a gas station. Sam was studying him when he looked up.

“So,” Sam said after a beat, “do you… wanna talk about it?”

Dean didn’t need to ask what he was talking about, “Absolutely fucking not,” he said, and Sam’s face fell. Dean sighed, “Listen, Sam, this is a lot. Not just whatever’s going on with me, all of it. Ruby, Lucifer, Michael, the freaking apocalypse. Let’s just make it to Bobby’s, then we can talk about it.”

Sam seemed to accept Dean’s request and sat back in his seat with a huff.

\---------------------------------------------

Two gas station hotdogs and too many hours of driving later, they were finally making their way up the familiar gravel driveway. Bobby was of course absent, given that he was currently still hospitalized. But he wouldn’t mind them using his place to talk as long as they didn’t leave a mess.

Cas wasn’t there either when they entered the house, so Dean sent him a quick prayer. The telltale fluttering of wings signaling Cas’s arrival was accompanied by a slightly unpleasant jump from the buzz.

“I need to examine your soul,” was the first thing Cas said. Straight to the point then.

“Hello to you too, Cas,” Dean replied, “you want to what now?”

“Is that the best idea Cas?” Sam cut in, “Given what happened last time you tried to mojo him, I mean. Are you sure it won’t, you know, explode again?”

“I will be more careful this time, I believe the nature of the problem is such that inspecting Dean’s soul may be the only way to determine what is happening” Castiel’s intense gaze was fixed on Dean. Dean almost swore he could see the light of Cas’s grace behind his eyes. That was ridiculous, though, because humans definitely could not see angel grace.

“What exactly would ‘inspecting my soul’ involve, Cas?” Cas was being very grave about the whole thing and it made Dean nervous.

“It will be incredibly painful,” of course it would.

“More painful than hell?” Dean asked. He hated being right.

“Most likely,” Cas replied. Dean let out a slow breath and cursed.

“And there’s no other way to find out what’s going on?” Dean wasn’t particularly optimistic about Cas’s answer.

“Not without far more power than we have access to,” right again. Dammit.

“Maybe you should wait outside for this one Sammy,” Dean suggested, Sam’s eyes widened.

“What? Why?!” he argued

“Dean may be correct Sam,” Cas was frowning apologetically, “seeing your brother in this type of pain may cause… lasting distress.”

Sam still looked like he wanted to argue, so Dean stepped in, “C’mon Sam. You and I both know you don’t need any more trauma.”

Now Sam just looked sad, “Neither do you,” he said.

Dean frowned and glanced at Castiel, “Doesn’t look like I have much choice this time.”

Sam somehow managed to look even sadder, but all he said was, “Let me know when you’re finished,” before he left for the scrapyard.

Dean watched him go and then turned back to Cas, “Alright,” he said, “how’re we doing this?”

“I would suggest you lie down,” Cas replied. Dean nodded and moved to the old worn sofa in Bobby’s living room.

Dean settled himself down facing the ceiling and focused on Cas when he approached. Cas placed a hand on Dean’s chest, and met his eyes with an intense gaze, “I will be as gentle as I can. I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean just nodded again, unable to come up with any words. His tongue felt heavy against his teeth. Dean didn’t get nervous often, not anymore, but something supposedly worse than hell, that was a bit much even for him. The buzz was more restless than ever, almost as if it knew what was about to happen.

“I’m going to begin,” Cas’s voice drew Dean out of his thoughts, “are you ready?”

No, “Yeah. Do it, Cas.”

Dean’s not sure what he was expecting, maybe more of a buildup. But one second he was looking Cas in the eyes, and the next his vision went white and fire exploded through his body.

_ Definitely worse than hell, _ was all he managed to think before his world blacked out for the second time in as many days.

\---------------------------------------------

The void was familiar by now, almost comforting in a way. The light was more or less stuck to him now. Oddly, it never quite touched him, always stopping inches from  _ making contact. It hovered around his body and left a sort of tingling feeling wherever it went. _

_ The murmuring voices were familiar as well, a soft background to his thoughts. Just like last time though, a single voice caught his attention over the others. _

**_Dean._ **

_ The voice sounded surprised. It was coming from somewhere behind him, so he turned around. _

_ It was the same foreign/familiar light from before. It was closer this time, and he could just make out a tall glowing figure. It was fuzzy, not much more than a silhouette, but he could see the shadowed outline of two massive wings mantled at its sides. Two blue spotlight eyes contrasted starkly against the white of its body. _

__

**_Dean, do you know where we are?_ **

_ That was a strange question but the figure didn’t give him time to answer. It moved closer to him. Close enough that he could almost make out something that looked like a face. Close enough to touch. _

_ Suddenly, the light around him jumped and fizzled. The figure’s approach seemed to agitate it for some reason, he felt like it should bother him too, and yet… _

_ Something about the figure was just so familiar. _

_ His calm apparently calmed the light as well, because the figure reached out for them next and the light only stilled before tentatively reaching back. _

_ Both the figure and the light stopped just before making contact, and the figure looked up at him as if to ask for permission. Somehow he knew he could trust this figure, so he shrugged and nodded towards the almost-connection. _

_ The figure seemed to understand, and reached the last of the distance to meet the light- _

Dean surged forward with a gasp, unseeing eyes darting wildly around the room. The buzzing was all-encompassing, rattling around in his head and consuming his senses. It felt- excited about something, but he had no idea what.

He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. Before he could shake it off a warmth spread through his body and the buzzing receded.

Once he could focus on his surroundings again, Dean turned towards the hand on his shoulder and found Cas staring at him. He looked completely lost.

Dean furrowed his brow, “Cas? What happened? Did you find something?”

Cas didn’t respond at first and Dean was about to repeat the question when he finally said something.

“Grace,” he whispered.

“Grace? Cas, what? Is there something wrong with your grace?” Dean asked

Cas seemed to collect himself somewhat before he answered, “Inside of you,” he said with wide eyes, “there is grace inside of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set up a tumblr for my writing, I'd love for you to come say hi!
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mythichollow


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